O Mistress Mine
by Slayergirl
Summary: With (scant) apologies to Shakespeare for the inspiration of the overall title, the chapter titles, and assorted quotes. Eric shows Sookie his sweeter, softer side. Could be canon-ish if you squint very hard. Most of this will not be M-rated, but the first chapter's discussion has to be! E/S all the way :-)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This bittersweet little story in six chapters is dedicated to some of my awesome reviewers who've been incredibly supportive over the last few days - in name order, Duckbutt, Mistress Jess, Perfecta999, and rsmmschi. Thank you for the kindness of the words you've sent me in PMs (as well as your reviews!) - it has made the world of difference.**

**At the end of each chapter, I've acknowledged which play, act, scene, and character my Shakespeare inspiration has come from.**

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Such stuff as dreams are made on

"Are you sure there's nothing you'd like to try?" asked Eric contemplatively, as he lay looking down at me, propped up on an elbow. "You know I am comfortable with…" he shrugged, "pretty much anything, so long as it makes you happy."

I wriggled uncomfortably. "You make yourself sound like some sort of sex slave," I grumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'd do that for you, if you wanted me to."

I shuddered. "No, thanks."

He smiled. "No? Why not? I wouldn't mind, O Mistress Mine."

I pulled a face at him, though the words felt vaguely familiar, as though they were something he'd taken out of context and used just to tease me. I couldn't place them, and I knew it would drive me mad, but asking Eric would probably just lead to a world of trouble. "I just… I don't know, I don't think I'd be comfortable with that," I said finally.

"Really? The amount you boss me around the rest of the time, I'd have thought it would be just up your street," he said teasingly.

I gave him a light swat on his arm. "Idiot," I said affectionately. "I don't boss you around." Much, I added mentally.

He fluttered his eyelashes at me. "Have I been a bad boy? Are you going to punish me?"

I shoved good-naturedly at his shoulder – it didn't make a blind bit of difference, of course; he was rock-solid, and it could never budge him. "Stop it," I giggled.

He chuckled, and snuggled me lazily into his arms. "The offer's always there. Like I said, I wouldn't mind."

"I know, but I don't think I… want to do that," I said hesitantly. "It would just feel weird. I mean… you're about a hundred or more times stronger than me, and…" I shrugged, tailing off.

"Precisely why some people would like the idea," he laughed. "But you are such a study in contrasts. Which is no bad thing," he added hastily. "I like the fact that you do what is least expected. It makes life interesting, fun." He sprawled inelegantly, but comfortably, over most of the bed, and pulled me closer. "But you don't like the idea, so we won't try it. There are many more things we can do, after all." He gave me a coaxing smile. "But is there something else you'd like to try? Any fantasies you have that you haven't told me about, that we haven't tried?"

I grinned. "Waking up to find myself with a really hot, rich man who loves nothing more than to make love to me all night long and would do anything for me? Oh, wait; done that one," I teased him.

He laughed, and tickled me gently. "_Other_ than that one, or any of the others we've worked through. Isn't there anything else? Something you've read, perhaps, in one of your romance novels, that you were curious to try?"

"I can't think of anything off-hand," I said. "You've never told me any of your fantasies, though," I added archly. "Maybe there's something in there?"

He was silent for a long while. "Do you still have that white dress? The one with red flowers on?" he asked eventually.

Well, colour me confused. "The one I wore to Fangtasia, that first time?" I asked, perplexed.

"Mm-hmm. That one." I spied a hint of fang as he remembered it.

"Yes, why?" Did he really like the dress that much?

He shot me a sidelong look. "Promise me you won't laugh?"

"Um, sure."

"I want to take you on a date. You know, like normal human people do."

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, and swallowed my giggles; Eric didn't _do _the normal, human thing; he was all about how great vampires were, and he hadn't been human for about a millennium. "Right. Okay. We could do that."

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" he said accusingly.

"I didn't laugh!" I said, eyes wide. "See, no laughing, no laughing at all."

"I could feel you trying not to giggle through the bond," he huffed.

I got a grip on myself; it was unfair of me to laugh, given that he'd been very good about all of the fantasies I'd come up with, most of which must have seemed very dull and pedestrian after a thousand years of 'seen that; done that'; he'd never once made me feel as though any of them were silly or strange, but had good-naturedly gone along with them all. "Sorry. Okay. You want me to wear that dress, and go on a date with you?"

"Yes," he said defensively.

I shrugged. "Sure, okay. Are you going to do the whole asking for my phone number bit, or… I mean, is this a first date, or a second date, or…?"

"I think it's a third or fourth date, maybe?" he hazarded. "Still early on." He gave me a slightly sly look. "Blossoming romance."

"You're getting soft in your old age," I smiled, but if I was honest, I was rather touched, and liked the idea. "Okay, so when are we going on this date?"

"Tomorrow night?" he asked hopefully. I nodded. He sat up in bed, and cleared his throat. "Are you free tomorrow night, Sookie? I have tickets for the theatre, to see _Twelfth Night_; I wondered if you'd be able to join me."

I couldn't help but giggle a little, but nodded. "Oh, that sounds lovely! Yes, I'm free tomorrow night."

"Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

I smiled as he lay back down, tugging me back into his arms. "Do you really have tickets for _Twelfth Night_?" I asked curiously.

"Mm. I was intending just to turn up on your doorstep, demand you change, and whisk you off, but since you asked…" he grinned. "I thought this would be even better."

I tumbled to what had been nagging away at the back of my mind. "_That's _where 'O Mistress Mine' comes from, isn't it? _Twelfth Night_, I mean," I realised. I'd had to study it at school, and I vaguely remembered the clown's song.

He gave me a sheepish look. "Yes; actually, that's what brought it to mind." He shrugged. "I saw the flyer, and remembered you saying you'd read it when you were at school, but had never seen it in production. And I thought…" he gave me a self-conscious smile, "it would be fun to play at being just a normal couple." He had a good memory; I didn't remember telling him that, but I guess I must have mentioned it in passing. He remembered even the tiniest details about me. "Anyway, I've been hoping you'd come up with the idea yourself rather than make me admit to it, but as you didn't…" he shrugged again, "well, here we are, going on a date to the theatre."

I rolled my eyes. "Ass," I said. But there was a little melty bit in my heart that made me reach out and run my fingers through his hair.

He looked up at me from under his eyelashes. "But you like my ass," he pouted. He flipped onto his front, and looked up at me, trying to look coy. "All pert and tight and begging to be patted."

I laughed, and gave it a gentle pat and a squeeze. "It deserves the attention," I agreed, and kissed him.

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**A/N: The chapter title is from **_**The Tempest**_**, Act Four Scene I, spoken by Prospero to Ferdinand. **

**The provenance of 'O Mistress Mine' is dealt more fully in the next chapter. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Eric and Sookie on their 'date' :-)**

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Would I were sleep and peace

I was a-flutter with nerves and excitement when Eric picked me up the next night. I tried to tell myself that this was just a night out with Eric, not really a date, but honestly, it didn't feel that way. Perhaps it was because he was pouring everything he could into it, as he stood at the door, drinking in the sight of me. "You look amazing."

I blushed. "Thank you." I took in his neatly brushed-back hair and sharp suit. "You're looking pretty good yourself."

He smiled, and kissed my cheek, breaking the sudden, breathless tension. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded, and grabbed a jacket and my purse. To my surprise, he held the door of the car open for me. As I got in, I wondered if he'd been reading a manual on how to be the perfect date.

We didn't talk much on the drive to Shreveport; despite reminding myself constantly that Eric and I were together, and that being bonded with him, we each had a huge insight into the moods and feelings of the other, I still felt somehow slightly shy. We'd never really been on a date before (I didn't count the orgy), so this felt very new – and surprisingly real.

I took his proffered arm tentatively when we arrived at the theatre, pressing closer to him in the throngs of people. I wasn't entirely surprised that the tickets were for a private box, with a very good view of the stage. I gave a rueful smile to myself as I remembered something Jason had once told me, about Bill taking Portia to listen to symphonies and stuff, and how I'd thought that I'd have gone with him, if only he'd asked. Well, Eric had gone one better, in my view.

I enjoyed the play; it was well-acted, and funny. I'd forgotten a lot of it (I hadn't read it since school), and it was completely different seeing it performed on stage rather than reading it, anyway. I was glad it was a comedy, too – I'd seen so much tragedy in the last few months to last me a lifetime. I laughed out loud at some of the scenes, and could feel Eric's amusement and enjoyment through the bond, too. I smiled as his hand crept over mine, his fingers lacing with mine, when the clown sang his song:

_O Mistress Mine, where are you roaming?  
__O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,  
__That can sing both high and low:  
__Trip no further, pretty sweeting;  
__Journeys end in lovers meeting,  
__Every wise man's son doth know._

I laid my head briefly on his shoulder while Sir Andrew and Sir Toby interrupted.

_What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;  
__Present mirth hath present laughter;  
__What's to come is still unsure:  
__In delay there lies not plenty;  
__Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,  
__Youth's a stuff will not endure._

I swallowed a lump in my throat; the words held a poignant meaning for me, having come so close to being killed so many times recently. I squeezed Eric's hand gently. He didn't let go until the end of the act.

As we left the theatre at the end of the performance, I felt a little sad; I didn't want the evening to be over. So often, the time I had to myself, with Eric, we spent in bed. I didn't object to that – far from it; but this was something we'd never really done, just going out like a normal couple, and I'd enjoyed it.

He clearly had similar ideas, as he hesitated before heading to the car. "Sookie…" he trailed off, momentarily, looking down at me. He reached out, and caught my hand again. "I'm not ready for this evening to be over just yet," he said quietly. "Would you like to go for a drink somewhere?"

I nodded, my smile almost threatening to split my face in two. "That sounds like a great idea."

It wasn't a vampire bar we ended up in, but a fairly non-descript place that, thankfully, sold bottled blood. I sipped a glass of red wine, slowly, feeling it warm me; if you didn't look too closely, you might think that Eric's drink, also in a wine glass, was a simple glass of wine. We could be two ordinary people, out on a date, not a thousand-year-old vampire sheriff and a telepathic barmaid. I guess that was the whole point.

It really did feel like a date, though, and I still felt strangely shy. "I've really enjoyed this evening," I said nervously.

He smiled; his whole face lit up, as if delighted that he'd got it right. "I have enjoyed it, too. Perhaps… we might do this again some time?"

I nodded. "I'd like that." And I would, I realised.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asked. "Perhaps… I know you dance, but… do you ice-skate?"

I blinked at him, surprised by his thinking of that. "I've never tried," I said. "Do you?" I asked curiously, realising how little I really knew about him, as far as interests and hobbies were concerned. I'd never really thought of him as having hobbies, if I was honest.

He nodded. "Yes, and I love it. Perhaps we could go some time, and I could teach you?"

I really liked that idea, a lot. "Sure," I said warmly. "That sounds really great. They have late-night opening on Fridays at the rink, don't they?"

"Yes, I think so – are you free this Friday?"

A bubbly little feeling tried to erupt inside me. "Um, yes. Yes, I'm free Friday night."

His face was open, guileless, happy. "I'll pick you up at the same time as tonight?"

I nodded happily. "That works for me, if you're sure? I don't mind driving."

He shook his head. "I'll drive you," he said. "It means I can spend as much time as possible with you, and how could that be a bad thing?"

I thought I might just melt into a little puddle of goo.

Finally, as it was getting late, we dragged ourselves regretfully out of the bar. Eric surprised me again by taking my hand. I'd never thought of Eric as being much of a hand-holder (though he was quite happy to grab any other part of my anatomy within his reach), but it felt nice to walk along with him, holding hands, despite the difference in our heights. My hand seemed so small in his; once, I'd have felt threatened by it, but now, it made me feel safe.

He had music on in the car as he drove me home – your typical, upbeat driving anthems. We had the windows down, and the wind whirled through my hair as he sped towards Bon Temps. I laughed, happiness bubbling over, at the feeling of freedom. He glanced over at me, and smiled, before turning his eyes back to the road. I could tell that he was happy, too.

He was out of the car and opening my door before I'd even unbuckled my seat belt, offering me his hand chivalrously as I stepped out. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," I said, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I looked up at him.

"Thank _you_," he replied softly. His hand came up to cup my cheek, and he bent his head. Then he hesitated. "May I?" he whispered.

I was shaking with nerves; no matter I'd kissed Eric any number of times, this felt as if it was the first again, precious and sweet. I nodded my permission, and closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine gently. All the happiness and joy I'd felt bubbled over again, as his arms went round my waist, pulling me close to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

He broke away after a long while; I was breathless and tingling all over; his eyes were slightly glazed. It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him in, but he forestalled me. "Friday night, then?"

I nodded wordlessly, and he smiled, raising my hand to his lips.

"_Good night, good night!_ _Parting is such sweet sorrow  
__That I shall say good night till it be morrow.  
__Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!  
__Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!"_

Then, with a final wave of his hand, he was in his car, and driving away.

My heart was still fluttering like a butterfly in the sun, as it had never fluttered before.

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**A/N: The title of the chapter, and the words Eric speaks in farewell, are from **_**Romeo and Juliet**_**, Act Two Scene II. The first two lines are Juliet to Romeo, and the second two are Romeo's response after Juliet's exited.**

**The song is from **_**Twelfth Night**_**, Act Two Scene III, and is sung by the clown. In Shakespearean times, 'Mistress' didn't have the same connotations as it does now, but was more likely to mean the lady of the household (and by extension, the servants thereof), or your lover, or wife (it's what 'Mrs' is short for, after all!).**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I feel for Sookie here. I have extremely painful and soggy memories of ice-skating; I always seem to spend more time sitting on the ice than actually skating on it. As I don't have a gorgeous Viking to hold me up, I kind of feel the hot drink at the end is the best bit...**

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And if you break the ice

I concluded, as I stepped onto the ice and promptly fell onto my ass, that if the good Lord had intended us to ice-skate, he'd have made us with built-in skates and a lower centre of gravity. Eric, of course, was at home on the ice – you'd think he'd been born to it, I thought, slightly resentfully. Maybe, given that he was Scandinavian, he had.

He held his hand out to me wordlessly, and pulled me back up. "Put your arm round my waist," he instructed, as his went around my ribs, holding me tightly. "I've got you, now; I won't let you fall."

Something inside me quivered as he said that, and I wrapped both arms around him. He gave a soft sound of surprise, but quickly rallied, hugging me back. Then he eased me back round to his side, and glided gently forwards, holding me tightly to him so I didn't fall.

I clung onto him, terrified, for a while; but gradually, when I realised it really was okay, I started to relax, and enjoy it – really enjoy it. As he felt me relax, he changed our position so he was now behind me, holding me firmly by the waist, meaning I had a little more autonomy. He was still holding me up, of course - if he hadn't, I'd have fallen over again - but it gave me more of an illusion of being independent, and gradually, my technique improved.

He taught me all the basics – how to move forwards without falling forwards (or flat on your back), how to go backwards, how to stop, how to fall, how to get up again. Little by little, my confidence grew, and by the end of the session – though I was breathless with the cold and exertion, rosy-faced, and with aching limbs – I could manage passably well.

"You want to try a solo circuit?" he asked me. "I'll skate beside you, in case you wobble."

I swallowed nervously – but nodded. "Um, sure. But you won't let me fall?"

"Promise. I'll catch you if you even so much as wobble."

I bit my lip nervously, and made myself let go of his hand; and then, terrifyingly, I was standing on my own skates with no one to hold me up. "I can do this," I told myself firmly. He nodded in encouragement, and I took a deep breath, skating slowly round the perimeter of the ice rink, Eric by my side like a giant Viking shadow.

It must have seemed torturously slow to him – being a vampire, and being comfortable on ice, he could probably whizz round at the speed of sound, if not light. But he was as good as his word, and stayed right by my side until I'd finished my lap.

"I did it!" I gasped in amazement, as I got round without mishap. I gave a happy laugh of disbelief. "I actually _did_ it!" and I threw my arms around his neck, laughing as he picked me up, and swung me round. There were tears in my eyes as he placed me gently down on the carpeted floor beside the rink. "Thank you so much for that," I said, my voice sounding a tiny bit choked. "That was amazing."

He grinned up at me as he bent to take his skates off. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I really did," I said, easing off the skates, and wiggling my toes in relief – ice skating boots aren't the most comfortable of things to wear. I hugged him again, and he gave a funny little purr of delight, and hugged me back, before scooping up his skates (he had his own, of course – top of the range) and my rental ones in one hand, and taking my hand with the other. I laced my fingers with his, and grinned as we went to retrieve our shoes. "I'm definitely going to come skating again."

He chuckled. "I was hoping you might say that. We could make a regular thing of it?" he suggested. It was strange to hear something so tentative coming from Eric's mouth. He was normally a pretty go-and-get-it, confident kind of guy.

"Sure," I said, pleased.

"They sometimes have ice discos," he said nonchalantly. "Maybe when you're more comfortable on the ice, we could come and join in."

Wow, someone was ambitious. "I think it'll be a while before I'll be able to do that," I said nervously.

He just smiled. "But it gives us something to aim for – yes?"

"I guess," I replied, somehow a little shy. "It does sound like fun."

"Then we'll do it," he said softly.

I looked up at him, suddenly breathless again. "You make me feel as though I can do anything," I whispered.

"Let me tell you a secret," he said mischievously, pulling me towards him. He bent, and murmured in my ear, "You can."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, unable to think what to say. He rested his cheek on the top of my head for a moment, and I let myself relax into the comfort of his arms, the warm tenderness of his embrace. I gave a shaky laugh as I pulled back. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He took my hand again. "You seem cold, even to me. I think you need something to warm you up." Normally, with Eric, an utterance like that would be accompanied by a bone-melting smile and a bucket-load of innuendo, but he seemed to have formulated a different set of rules for our 'dates'. I wasn't sure quite why, or what they were, but was happy to go along with it. In fact, I rather enjoyed seeing this side of him – the sweet, considerate guy completely removed from his position as sheriff of Area Five, Louisiana. Of course, I was well aware that he could very often be sweet, when he chose to be; but this was something entirely different. It was as if he was trying to pretend that the vampire side of him didn't even exist – despite the fact that normally, he revelled in it. Still, I guess that's the point of fantasies, isn't it? It's all make-believe. Why shouldn't he want to make-believe, just like everyone else?

I walked along beside him, wondering what he was planning now; perhaps not surprisingly, he led me to a coffee bar. "Hot chocolate?" he suggested. "Or a coffee, or tea?"

"I'll get it," I offered, but he shook his head.

"No, no; just tell me what you want."

Clearly he was determined to be the perfect date. "Hot chocolate, then, please. But really, you don't have to…"

He cupped my face gently in his hand. "But I want to."

I sipped my hot chocolate quietly when it came, warming my hands round the Styrofoam cup, lost in thought. Eric looked at me anxiously.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, not really." I sighed. "I'm a bit tired," I admitted. "I hadn't realised how tiring skating is."

"Shall I take you home?"

I looked uncertainly at him. "If you wouldn't mind?"

He seemed a little sad, but smiled. "Of course not, if that's what you want." He thrust his hands in his pockets when he stood, and I hovered nervously before finally linking my arm through his. His stance relaxed. "I thought I'd over-stepped the mark somewhere," he said, relieved.

I shook my head. "I really am just tired," I said. "You could come in, though, when we get back, and… you know, just cuddle for a while?" I said hopefully.

He looked pleased. "You want to cuddle?"

"I'd like to," I smiled.

He smiled back at me. "I'd like that, too."

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**A/N: The chapter title is from **_**The Taming of the Shrew**_**, Act One Scene II, and is spoken by Tranio to Petruchio.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is based on an old-fashioned steam fair I sometimes go to, which travels around the country (people in the UK may have heard of Carter's Steam Fair), where they have brightly painted rides and stuff, and everyone turns out and goes; there's always a fireworks show on the last night.**

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That merry wanderer of the night

I hadn't been to the fair in years. In years gone by, it was more in the way of an agricultural fair, but times were moving on, and as industry was bigger business than farming, the fair was now more about having fun. Nowadays there was a Ferris Wheel, a carousel, coconut shy, rifle range, and dodgems, and all manner of other fairground attractions. I'd looked askance at Eric when he suggested we go for the final night so that we could watch the fireworks – but he insisted it would be a fun night out. Our theatre and ice skating dates had been fun, and they'd been his choices too, so I shrugged my shoulders and went along with it. After all, there was no harm in going to the fair. I used to enjoy it when I was a child.

We wandered around hand in hand for a little while, to see what stalls there were. We watched the Punch and Judy show for a few minutes, until I shuddered and looked away; Eric said nothing, but wrapped an arm around me. He paused by the 'test your strength' machine, and raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Don't you dare!" I hissed. "You'll break it, those things aren't meant for vampires!"

He chuckled. "Not me, you. With the amount of my blood you've had… come on," he urged me. "Give it a go."

I giggled, suddenly, seeing where his mind was going. "Okay, then." I stood in line and handed over my coin, and grasped the mallet. Eric grinned, and winked. I smashed the mallet down as hard as I could (I won't say whose head I was imagining underneath it), and up went the marker. Not quite to the top, but the man on the stall was left gaping.

"My, but ain't you stronger than you look!" he said, his eyes wide.

I grinned and walked away, a swagger in my hips, Eric laughing by my side. "Did you see his face?" I giggled once we were out of earshot.

"Priceless," he agreed. "Like a goldfish out of water." He proceeded to do an impression of him, eyes bugging out, jaw dropping, until I was convulsed with laughter. He laughed with me, until we almost had to hold each other up. "Come on, I want a go on the coconut shy," he said, tugging me in that direction.

He had near-perfect aim, and a good throwing arm, so it was never going to be a fair trial of his skill – in fact, it was child's play for him to knock a coconut out of its holder. When the woman in charge handed him the coconut, she gave him a sour look, until he gave her a dazzling smile, and handed the coconut to me. Then she gave _me _a sour look.

"If looks could kill," I muttered, as we slunk off with our prize.

He chuckled. "Have you ever had coconut water straight from the shell?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I guess you can't drink it?"

"No. You have it."

I frowned at it. "I think I remember something about knocking the eyes of the coconut out with something sharp, and drinking through one of the holes," I said. "I guess we need a skewer, or…" I glanced up at Eric's amused look. "What's so funny?"

"You come to the fairground with a vampire, and want a skewer to pierce open your coconut? Really, Sookie," he chided me, "have you no imagination?" He winked, and held his hand out for the coconut. I gave it to him, and he snapped his fangs down. "Who needs a skewer when you have fangs?" he said, handing it back to me, with three, neat puncture holes in it. "Drink," he said softly. "It's supposed to taste better fresh, and from the source."

I shivered a little at the double meaning of his words, remembering him drinking from me. I drank from the coconut, though, and enjoyed the cool, fresh-tasting liquid. "Mm… it's good," I said.

He broke it open for me, once I'd finished drinking, and stripped the flesh out of the shell with his pocket knife. We wandered around happily while I ate it; I felt pretty contented. "You want a go on the rifle range?" I asked him as we passed it by.

He shrugged. "You're the firearms expert, GI Jane."

I pulled a face, remembering some of the times I'd needed to use a rifle – hold-up at a gas station, killing Debbie Pelt – but I held my head up. "Alright, then." My first shot went wide; I was a bit disappointed, but concentrated harder on the second shot. It wasn't plum, but it was good enough. The third one hit the jackpot.

"Choose your prize, lady," carolled the young girl in charge of the stall. "You want a goldfish? Or maybe a soft toy?"

"I'll go with the soft toy, thanks," I said, grinning to myself.

"Any from the middle shelf, lady."

I giggled. "That one, please," I said, pointing. Eric gave a soft groan.

"The helmet's all wrong," he muttered in my ear, as the girl handed over the little Viking toy. "Totally ridiculous, and utterly unrealistic. How on earth could you fight in that? Also, that's not a broadsword, and the shield's a Saxon shield, not a Viking one, and don't even get me started on the symbols; those Runes are meaningless rubbish. Honestly, whoever came up with that…" he stopped, seeing my face (trying very hard not to laugh openly at him), and gave me a crooked grin. "Sorry."

I laughed at that. "It'll remind me of you when you're not around. At least it's blond."

"Not as good-looking as me," he preened.

"No, but that would be pretty tough," I teased him.

He gave a pleased little purr. "Where next? Dodgems? Carousel? Ferris Wheel?"

"Let's end with the Ferris Wheel," I said. I had my own ideas about the Ferris Wheel; judging by the soft look in his eyes, he did as well.

"Queue's shorter for the carousel, let's do that first," he said, tugging me gently in that direction. "Oh, look! Sookie, you have to have that horse."

"Which? Why?" I asked, peering in the direction he was pointing. It looked like any of the others.

"It's called Eric. You think I'd let you ride any other horse?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just as well I'm not as possessive as you, mister, or you'd never get a ride – I doubt there's a horse called Sookie."

"Oh, I'm not riding," he said. "They're too small for me. I'll sit on one of the benches, where I can stretch my legs out and enjoy the view." He winked at me, and I pretended to be outraged.

"You're doing this just to ogle me?"

He shook his head, and smiled. "To see you happy, free, with the wind in your hair and the starlight in your eyes," he said poetically. I couldn't help but melt a little at that.

After the dodgems (Eric insisted on driving – like a lunatic, of course), we made our way to the Ferris Wheel; it was almost time for the fireworks to start, but we managed to get on just before the show started, so we'd be able to see them perfectly. I shivered a little in the cool breeze, and Eric wrapped an arm around me, sheltering me from it; I snuggled a little closer, and looked up at him.

"Thank you," I said softly, "for another lovely evening."

"You're welcome," he replied.

The fireworks really did start when he kissed me.

* * *

**A/N: The chapter title is from **_**A Midsummer Night's Dream**_**, Act Two Scene I, and is spoken by Puck (referring to himself).**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: One chapter to go after this. I'll be sorry to reach the end of it!**

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If music be the food of love

I was eager for the next date night – Eric seemed to have really got into the whole dating thing, and was enjoying planning nights out for us; and he seemed to get it unerringly right every time. Our next date night was to be to a gig – a group of young Werewolves from the Shreveport Pack had formed a band called 'Ware the Weres. Eric had apparently become a sort of patron, as he liked their music and attitude, so they'd sent him complimentary tickets to their show. So of course, Eric invited me along.

I had a good chuckle over one of the covers they performed – Shakira's 'Animal City', which, given they were Weres, was a good, ironic choice. I could tell it appealed to Eric's sense of humour, too, as he gave a fangy grin as he listened to the lyrics.

I glanced over to him, and let my hand glide over his as they sang:

_With you I feel safe  
There's nothing to fear from us  
Away from the fangs  
The fangs of the world  
I may be a coward but you are brave  
And nothing seems so dangerous_

_'Cause it's an animal city_  
_It's a cannibal world_  
_So be obedient, don't argue_  
_Some are ready to bite you…_

"You are always safe with me," he whispered.

I scooted a bit closer to him. "I know," I whispered back.

He wrapped an arm round me, and let me snuggle into him. "You are anything but a coward."

"Sometimes I think I am," I said. "But you're brave enough for both of us."

He pressed a kiss into my hair, and didn't reply. I snuggled a little closer, and smiled as he kissed me gently on the lips, tilting my head up to give him better access. I melted against him a little as he deepened the kiss, one hand fisting in his t-shirt.

As he pulled a way, I tried to return my breathing to normal; I felt as though I'd just run a marathon, the way my breaths were shallow, and my heart racing. There were butterflies in my stomach, and tingles all the way down my spine; I felt almost unbearably aware of him, of our proximity, needing and wanting to touch him, kiss him, knowing I couldn't right there and then. I almost suggested cutting the evening short and just going home, but bit it back at the last moment; he'd wanted to come to this gig, and I wasn't going to get in the way of his enjoyment of it. I could wait.

But there was a tension, a frisson, that wouldn't dissipate; in fact, I felt it grow and blossom. I was only barely aware of the music they were playing – mostly their own rock numbers, with a few covers of pop songs thrown in to keep people happy – my awareness having been focused down into the beautiful man sitting next to me with his arm around me. I _ached_ with desire for him, my fingers curling into my palms as I tried so hard to quell it, keep it under control, to let him enjoy his evening out in peace.

When his hand slid under my top, just gently stroking the skin on my side, any noble, self-sacrificing thoughts I had nearly flew out of the window. I gave a soft hum of encouragement, low in my throat; I probably wouldn't have stopped him, even if he'd decided to take me there and then. With that thought, I hauled my self-control back from the edge. "Eric… later," I gasped.

He withdrew his hand gently, and laid it on my stomach again. "Okay," he whispered, with a quick kiss to my temple.

I was almost disappointed, the desires of my body going into fully-fledged battle with the rationality of my head. It was becoming harder and harder not to give in to what my body wanted – to feel Eric on me, in me, round me and all over me… I shivered at the thoughts. _Please don't let this gig go on for too much longer,_ I thought.

It seemed to drag on; even Eric, beside me, was getting antsy, no doubt because he could feel my rising need for him through the bond. _Oh, God, please, let this be the last song,_ I thought, my toes curling as I imagined what delights would be in store for me later.

Eventually, they wrapped up the last of their encores – they'd been very well-received, and were clearly going to be a pretty big hit, with their self-mocking attitude, and professional, slick act. I wasn't surprised Eric had taken to them – he had a good head for business, and had no doubt seen their potential.

Finally, we made it outside again; I only just held myself back from pouncing on him straight away. He knew what state I was in, though, and pulled me into his arms as he leant back against the Corvette, kissing me passionately.

"Home," I croaked, gasping for breath, when he pulled back to let me breathe. "Quickly."

He chuckled. "Your place or mine?"

"Whichever's closer," I managed to whimper, kissing him again.

He groaned, and nipped lightly at my neck. "Mine," he said. I wasn't sure if he was saying his place was closer, or I was his, and didn't much care either way.

"Okay, yours," I said, deliberately letting it be as ambiguous as he had. "But _please _hurry."

He gave a ragged chuckle, and held the door open for me.

He drove like the wind – he normally did, of course, but there seemed an even greater sense of urgency this time, as if he was afraid the moment would pass, that I'd change my mind before we got there. Frankly, that wasn't going to happen; it was all I could think about, all I wanted.

As he opened up the door to his house and let us in, I started trembling, partly with desire, but partly also with nerves; it felt like a first time again, somehow; not just with him, but perhaps ever.

"You sure you want this?" he asked softly, his skin glowing faintly in the near-dark of the house.

I reached up, my arms going round his neck, his arms around my waist. "Yes," I gasped against his mouth. "Yes, yes, I want this."

A tiny groan escaped him, and he crushed his mouth to mine.

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**A/N: The chapter title comes from **_**Twelfth Night**_**, Act One Scene I, and the words are spoken by Orsino, Duke of Illyria.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: All becomes clear. I've no doubt you'll recognise the words that I've taken and troped, and where they come from... ;-)**

**I'm sorry this is over, but it's reached its natural conclusion, and I want to keep it as it is. There will be other stories, no doubt, but I'm leaving this one here.**

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Doubt thou the stars are fire

Somehow, he got us to the bedroom without bumping into anything, though his hands and mouth never left me, nor mine him. My hands were shaking so much that, though I managed to rob him of his t-shirt, I could only fumble with the button of his jeans. In the end, he stripped himself of them. He hesitated before undressing me.

"Sure?" he whispered.

"Yes," I murmured in response, wriggling out of my top. He pulled me into his arms before I could lose any more clothes, wrapping his arms around me.

"So beautiful," he said softly. "You are so beautiful."

My eyes filled with tears. "I – I'm not…"

"You are," he insisted. "You are beautiful, and wonderful, and brave, and I love you."

I swallowed, hard, shaking my head in denial.

He lifted my head, his finger under my chin, and said, very quietly,

"'_Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;  
Doubt truth to be a liar;_  
_**But never doubt I love**_.'"

Then his mouth was on mine, soft, but urgent, as if he were pouring every ounce of what he felt for me into it, into me, into the bond we shared. I shook, warring inside, almost unable to comprehend the intensity of it.

He kissed me all over as he undressed me – every scar, every dimple, every smooth expanse of skin, everywhere got its turn. And not just a quick passing over on the way to better things; no, he took his time to show me that he loved me, loved _all _of me, until I didn't know whether to cry or cry out. It was beautiful, tender, and loving, and as he took me in his arms again, I clung to him, never wanting to let him go. I felt safe in his arms – safer, stronger, braver; he made me feel I could do anything. I kissed him again, trying to show him how much I loved him, too, how much he meant to me. I buried my hands in his hair and arched my body close to his, closer and closer; he held me tightly as if understanding how much I needed it.

I gave a shudder of relief when he finally entered me, my breaths coming in short gasps. "Okay?" he asked, holding still.

I nodded, burying my head in the crook of his neck, holding tightly onto him for a moment, emotion threatening to overwhelm me.

"I've got you," he soothed me. "It's okay, Sookie. Let go, I've got you." I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his shoulder; somehow, taking that initiative gave me the strength to relax, to move with him, respond to him. "You want to be on top?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No; not this time," I whispered back.

He nodded, and kissed my cheek, then my neck, then my ear, just as he knew I liked. "As you wish."

Truth be told, I wanted him on top of me, covering me; I wanted that feeling of protection and safety, of being cocooned in his arms. "I love you," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes again.

"I love you, too, my darling," he whispered back.

My heart ached at his words, almost terrified of believing them. I gulped, and felt something struggle inside me, trying to get free.

"Let go," he said again softly. "Let it out."

And then something broke, shattered into fragments inside me, and the barriers I'd had up burst open like a river bursting through a dam, raging through me in a torrent. I could see the stars burning, wheeling in the heavens, feel the earth in movement beneath me, and I cried out, giving myself up to the feelings as never before. It was a moment so explosive, it felt as though I'd been saving up for a holiday.

There was a moment's stillness, silence, before either of us spoke or moved.

"You… Are you all right?" Eric asked. His blue eyes looked down at me, and he was half-smiling, as if he weren't sure whether he should be clapping or calling an ambulance.

"I am very, very all right," I whispered. Grammar be damned. "I'm so all right I might slide off the bed and lie in a puddle on the floor." If he hadn't been holding onto me, I might have done just that.

His smile became more secure. "So that was good for you? Better than it's been?"

I felt a little guilty for not having mentioned my little… problem before now. "You knew that…?"

He cocked an eyebrow. Oh. Oh, of course; I should have thought of that.

"Well, of course you knew. I just… had some issues that had to work themselves out."

And then I realised. Yes, _of course_ he knew I hadn't been able to orgasm since the Fairy War; he'd have felt it through the bond if I had. And he'd have understood, probably, that it wasn't anything to do with him, but simply my own reactions to the kidnapping and torture that had made me put those barriers up, made it impossible for me to let go, to relax. He'd known, and he'd taken me back to the beginning of a relationship, working through to a point, a natural point, where I would be comfortable and ready for intimacy again. Without confronting it, without putting pressure on me, he'd quietly worked through with me, a silent support, until I'd self-corrected.

I felt like crying. Even his sudden interest in my fantasies, his offer of trying anything new I wanted – all a desperate searching for some way to help me find my way again. And some of things we'd done – ice-skating, the strength test and the rifle range at the fair – to prove to me that I was strong and capable. It was all I could do not to break down and weep. He hadn't been doing this for himself; he'd been doing this _for me._

As if responding to my thoughts, as much as to my words, he said, "I knew it couldn't be my lovemaking, wife of mine," and though the words were cocky, his expression was definitely on the relieved side.

More out of habit than with any real rancour, I said, "Don't call me your wife. You know our so-called marriage is just strategy." Maybe it had been to begin with, I thought; but I was pretty sure it wasn't any more. Not now, not after what he'd just done for me. You didn't do that for someone unless you loved them very, very deeply. "To get back to your previous statement. _A-one_ lovemaking, Eric." I had to give credit where credit was due. "The no-orgasm problem was in my head. Now I've self-corrected."

"You are bullshitting me, Sookie," he murmured. He was right, of course, and a rueful grin at him acknowledged it – he grinned back, his joy and relief palpable. Whatever our marriage had once been, it was certainly more than just a strategy now; it was the best thing in my life. _He_ was the best thing in my life. "But I'll show you some A-one lovemaking. Because I think you can come again."

As it turned out, I could.

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**A/N: The chapter title, and the words Eric speaks to Sookie, are from **_**Hamlet, Prince of Denmark**_**, Act Two Scene II, and are words written from Hamlet to Ophelia in a letter. The emphasis on the last line is all Eric's, though.**

**The last part of the story is from the beginning of _Dead In The Family_, where Sookie finally manages to 'self-correct' after the Fairy War.**

**Congratulations to anyone who realised from the beginning where I was going with this - I was trying to make it as much of a surprise to you guys as it was to Sookie ;-)**


End file.
